


Not Even Vaguely Illegal

by Small_Hobbit



Series: River Police [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 09:26:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11377335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Sherlock invites John and DI Stanley Hopkins (Met River Police) to a masked ball.  There has to be more on his mind than just the entertainment.





	Not Even Vaguely Illegal

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ/DW's Fan Flashworks Amnesty Challenge: Mask, Ball and Shoulder prompts

“I’m not doing anything even vaguely illegal,” Inspector Stanley Hopkins said.  
  
“There is nothing illegal about attending a masked ball,” Sherlock Holmes replied.  “The invitations are genuine; Mycroft got them for me.  You can ask him if you like.”  
  
“But the whole idea of wearing a mask implies you don’t want to be recognised.  It still sounds illegal to me.”  
  
“There is little point in going to a masked ball if you don’t wear a mask.”  
  
“As far as I can see,” John remarked, “The only criminal offence is the cost of the tickets.”  
  
“Thank you for the singularly unhelpful comment,” Sherlock said.  
  
“And who’s paying for the tickets?  If Mycroft got them by some other means that’s deception,” Stanley said.  
  
“How should I know who paid?  You can try to arrest Mycroft, but somehow I doubt you’ll succeed.”  
  
Stanley laughed.  “Okay, I get the message.  We’re going to a masked ball so you can get close to the Hungarian ambassador’s wife and see who she contacts.  But John’s going, so why do you need me to come too?”  
  
The gap before Sherlock replied with “I wanted to see you in a dinner jacket again” was almost imperceptible, but sufficient for Stanley to shake his head in disbelief.  
  
“Yeah, right.  I presume I’ll find out on the night.”  
  
***  
  
Sherlock had insisted on ordering the clothing, including masks.  Stanley had initially been concerned, wondering what Sherlock would have selected, and was relieved to see his mask was plain black with only a slight silver pattern on it.  John’s was similar, although the patterning was white, because apparently it was important Sherlock could tell them apart.  Stanley thought their height difference (he was even taller than Sherlock) should have been sufficient, but apparently that wasn’t the point.  Naturally, Sherlock’s mask was rather more ornate.  
  
Once at the ball, Sherlock’s instructions were to circulate unobtrusively, but to stay where he could see them.  Stanley quickly lost sight of Sherlock, as he disappeared into the mass of people circulating within the reception rooms.  The ballroom was at the far end, and Stanley could hear the orchestra playing, so he assumed the dancing had already begun.   
  
Stanley reasoned Sherlock would remain in the reception rooms, rather than heading for the dance floor, and contented himself with making several passes up and down the tables which were laden with food.  He knew he would need to make his glass of champagne last, but saw no point in missing out on the buffet.  
  
He noticed John had been cornered by a lady who was wearing a dark red mask, which was sporting a number of very large feathers.  He made his way over to him, and taking him by the elbow, Stanley jerked his head to one side to indicate he wished to speak to him.  John apologised to the lady, who giggled drunkenly, and moved away with Stanley.  
  
“I thought my luck might have been in,” John said with a laugh.  
  
“No, mate, let’s face it – you couldn’t have afforded her,” Stanley replied.  
  
“Too true.  I wonder where Sherlock’s got to.”  
  
As if by magic, Sherlock appeared behind them.  “Come on,” he said, “There’s no time to lose.”  
  
They followed Sherlock down a corridor, avoiding waiters carrying more food and drink who were heading in the opposite direction.  Finally, Sherlock led the way to what looked like an old fireplace.  Sherlock stood in the fireplace and looked upwards into what had once been a chimney.  
  
“There,” he said, “can you see where the light’s coming in?  There must be some sort of window.  I need to know what can be seen through it.”  
  
“Okay,” Stanley said.  
  
John looked confused.  “Okay?” he asked.  
  
“I can get up there easily enough using the metal rungs in the chimney sides,” Stanley said.  
  
“Is it safe?”  
  
“Reasonably.”  
  
“I give up.”  John threw his hands up in mock despair.  “You won’t do anything vaguely illegal, but almost certainly dangerous is another matter.”  
  
Stanley laughed.  “I will, however, need help to reach the first rung.”  
  
“That’s where John and I come in,” Sherlock said.  
  
John gave Stanley a leg up onto Sherlock’s shoulders and from there he was able to reach the first rungs on the side of the chimney and swing himself up.  He climbed rapidly and was soon looking out of the window.  “Ah, of course,” he said.  
  
He was on his way back down when Sherlock said, “Stay there, we’ve got company.”  
  
Two men entered the room and charged at Sherlock and John.  One backed John against the fireplace, and was taken by surprise when Stanley dropped out of the chimney on top of him.  It was then an easy matter for John and Stanley to overcome Sherlock’s assailant.  
  
“Right, tie them up and leave them there,” Sherlock said, pointing at the fireplace.  “And then come on, we need to get going.”  
  
Once outside, Sherlock hailed a cab and they piled in.  
  
“Which floor?” Sherlock asked.  
  
“Sixth,” Stanley replied.  
  
“What?”  John looked in confusion between the other two.  
  
“We’ll explain later,” Stanley said.  
  
It was only a few minutes before they reached their destination.  Sherlock and Stanley jumped out of the cab, with John once more trailing behind.  They arrived at a well-appointed block of apartments just as a couple emerged from it.  
  
“Hold the door,” Sherlock called.  
  
As they hurried inside, John said, “Why did they let us in?  They don’t know us.”  
  
“We’re in evening dress,” Sherlock explained.  “We must be acceptable people.”  
  
Stanley snorted.  
  
In the lift they discussed how best to approach the occupants of the flat they were calling at.   
  
“We can’t just knock at the door,” Sherlock said, “There needs to be sufficient surprise they act without thinking.”  
  
“Stanley could abseil down from the roof and knock on the window,” John suggested.  “That would probably be a surprise.”  He ignored the glares he received from the other two.  
  
“We could put our masks back on,” Stanley said.  
  
“Brilliant!” Sherlock agreed.  
  
With their masks in place, Sherlock knocked.  A man opened the door, saw them, and passed over a large envelope.  Sherlock accepted it, and the three departed.  
  
“Right,” Sherlock said.  “Let’s get out of here before anyone realises we weren’t the masked men they were expecting and comes after us to forcibly reclaim the envelope.”  
  
They left the building, and Sherlock hailed another taxi.  
  
Once in the taxi, John said, “I realise we have just recovered stolen, or” he glanced at Stanley, “at least misappropriated goods.  But surely by wearing masks to do so, we were guilty of deception.”  
  
Stanley looked at him, “I think you are once again confusing the vaguely illegal with the almost certainly dangerous.”  



End file.
